How to actually get a job in high-end IT and/or overcome huge odds doing it - Part One

So I realize that a lot of people out there really don't come to this blog for this, but that's ok - I'm going to talk about it anyways.  This post has been a long time coming.  I've told people this story one on one but never written it down and posted it.

(The following story is true and without my usual embellishment)

First, a little backstory.

I'm an IT professional. Specifically, by trade I'm a Linux Systems Administrator/Engineer (depending on what company I worked for).  What makes me an aberration in most people's eyes is I'm minimally educated from the standpoint of traditional education.  I spent time at four separate high schools and was primarily pursuing an education in programming.  I was, at the time of my graduation, a fairly proficient C programmer.  I could program in Basic, Pascal, C, Hypercard, and a few other languages.  It was a good smattering of skillsets.  My last two years were spent in a local Vo-Tech High School.  This ultimately prepared me for my path.  My teacher at the time felt it was important for us to know Unix (specifically SCO).  So we were taught some basics about Unix and shellscripting.  I had an advantage having already been familiar with  writing some fairly complex batch files for DOS.


Anyways from there I went straight into industry.  I worked co-op my senior year (which means I spent my shop week at an actual job).  Then I was picked up by said job to work full time.

Sounds easy right?  Just turn back the clock to your late teens (19, specifically) and away you go!

Then it all went wrong.

It started with an intense amount of stress at work.  I'd been demoted because I was 'better with hardware' (code words for: "I want to pay you less and still need a sysadmin").  My boss was not an easy man to work for.  He and I clashed regularly.  I began getting sick.  I was puking every day at lunch and assumed it was the stress.  So one day, after a particularly heated moment, I handed him my "I quit papers" as he handed my "You are fired" papers.  By the way, this is a bad idea.  Let them fire you, because I found out later I had invalidated my ability to get unemployment compensation by handing him an "I quit" notice.

A week later I had a bruise on my hip that really hurt and kept me from moving much.  I also felt MUCH sicker.  The vomiting increased and the lump on my hip got huge.  Like 'literal size of a grapefruit' huge.

I saw my doctor, who referred me to a specialist.  Side note: when I quit we were switching insurance at my previous job so I had no coverage, not even COBRA.  This becomes relevant shortly.

The specialist informed me that my lymph node was necrotic (the tissue was dying inside me) and filling with fluid.  The vomiting was caused by the pressure it was exerting on my lower intestine, making me unable to process waste.  He said this was all extremely bad.  Given my age and the size/disposition of my physical symptoms it was a fair chance I had Hodgkin's Lymphoma.  I was also told that IF I had it, given my state, it was safe to assume I had three or less months to live.

This is a pretty rough thing to hear when you are 20ish.   I took it by basically going numb and saying 'well.. fuck it, not much I can do about that, right?'

Up to this point there'd been a lot more in my life that'd gone wrong.  My father was abusive.  My parents divorced, remarried because of me, divorced again.   I'd been disowned by my father about a year prior, etc, etc.  A lot happened in those previous years.  Point is, I was no stranger to problems.  This is helpful.  I think if I'd have lead an easier life, this might not have been so straightforward.

As it was I'd already lost 30+ pounds to this point from a starting weight of 155.  I looked and felt like shit.  I'd lived through some shitty years already.  Being told I had possibly three months to live was just another step in a trail of bullshit stretching back years.

The specialist then drained the black and purple bulge on my hip with a huge needle called a lance and scheduled me for surgery (a biopsy).

When I went in for surgery my blood pressure was 80/60.  I know this because the nurse said "Your blood pressure is 80/60... how are you still conscious?!"


I shrugged and got my surgical work done.  I awoke high as a kite (I recall talking incessantly about wanting to go to college for programming with my eyes closed to the guy next to me and him saying 'can I be on what he's on?').  This eventually calmed down... They then informed me that they removed two lymph nodes because they could tell they weren't cancerous because it was just laying there and not wrapped around anything.  They sent them down for biopsy and I'd hear back soon what it was for sure.

Lesson One:  Never, ever, just 'give up and die'.  And believe me, when death is hovering around like a vulture, you WILL feel like you can do that.

I felt okay for a while and they let me walk.  This is where I discovered I had an allergy to morphine.  There's nothing better than having to violently vomit after having abdominal surgery - ask a woman who's had a c-section for details.

Anyways, fast forward a bit.  I spent a week on a couch recovering.  At this point, my fiancee at the time quit her job because of stress.  So now I was neck deep in medical debt (approx 21,000 dollars) with no savings and now no income.  I had to work .. and I had to work fast.

In retrospect, I should have declared bankruptcy  or asked for more help from family at this moment.  But I didn't because I'm proud and stubborn.   Consider that lesson on the house.

At this point I was in deep shit.

Lesson Two:  No one else can dig you out of your own shit better than you.  So shut up and get busy digging.

I need a job and I needed one fast.   So I applied at <NONSPECIFIC POSTAL COMPANY>.  Now imagine this, if you will:  a sickly, pale, 121 lb waif of a man going to apply at a job that requires you to be able to minimally lift 70 lbs.

At the <NONSPECIFIC POSTAL COMPANY> center I worked at, the first thing they would do was try to make you quit.  They'd deliberately put you on the worst jobs in the building to beat you into submission.  From what I saw there, it was overwhelmingly effective.

I did not quit.  What choice did I have?  I would get up at 2:00am, throw a bandage over my still draining surgical scar and drive to work to do heavy lifting for 5 hours at so-so pay. At one point I slipped a disk in my back and didn't have enough money to see the doctor to find out what it was.. so I just kept working in excruciating pain until one day it slipped back.  To this day, I have back issues.

For the first two months I came home, looked at the full length bruises running up and down my arms, slapped on some Ben-gay, and passed out for a few hours until I had to get up to live/eat/work again.

I guess the lesson here is sometimes the best you can do is all you can do.   Sometimes it's not enough - my money wasn't sufficient to pay bills.   Sometimes you need a little faith in god (sorry to be preachy).  I'm not the begging kind, usually.  I would simply say my prayers and try to remember that sometimes these types of things served a purpose.

Lesson Three:  Trusting in god is hard, but will help sustain you.  Even if you can't, just do the best you can and know that it's enough as long as it your best.

After Six months I was at a martial arts tournament (weapons fighting with foam padded sticks) and broke my hand as well as tore a ligament in between my knuckles.

Here's the thing.  Everyone told me to go to work and pretend I did at work to get unemployment.  I couldn't do that because...

My work ethic matters to me.  (Even though I missed out on short-term gains).

This isn't a lesson really.  Just a statement of fact.  Your miles may vary, but I find that personally speaking, I couldn't be unethical. I'm not saying my life wouldn't have been marginally easier at that point.  I could have coasted by doing nothing for a while, for sure.

Instead I used my union health insurance, got my hand in a 'beer can cast' and went out and found a job by using my newfound dogged persistence.  On top of that, I was in much better physical shape.  My nickname at <NONSPECIFIC POSTAL COMPANY> was 'The Ant' - because I was one of the smallest guys there and could regularly lift more than my body weight.  Kind of silly, but I took it as a badge of pride.

A week later I was employed at Earthlink, Inc. doing basic phone internet support.  Now previously (for almost two years, mind you) I'd worked at the other company doing programming and systems administration work.  This was a big step down, but they paid really well compared to <NPC> or my previous IT/IS job.

Did I mention they had a typing test where you needed a minimum 40 words per minute to get in?  I passed the test with one hand in a cast.


Lesson Four:  It's amazing what you can do when you are REALLY REALLY DETERMINED.


That's probably enough for now.  I'll write more as it suits me, though luckily this is a topic I'm passionate about so you'll probably see more soon.

Oh and for those interested... the illness wasn't cancer.  It was CAT SCRATCH FEVER. 

And here I always thought that was a fake illness made for a song.  Nope, it's real and it nearly killed me.  So if nothing else, you learned that.